“I began visiting the outskirts of the city, and I found this hill. But I did not buy it until I had thought about the neighbors first. When I was satisfied that they were not in the class of those who cut up our land like so many olives to make merchandise out of it, I built a house in which my wife, my daughter, and I could live. I planted a garden to appease the land, and the land was appeased, for it gives us fruit and vegetables and flowers.”
The lady of the house added, “If people have money they usually travel abroad every year to mend their bodies and to be healed. For this purpose they leave their homes to travel for days by train and by ship. They come to a place with pleasant air, find cramped lodgings which are not pleasant and which have no air. But my husband has made our lodging in a pleasant place with pleasant air, and we do not need to wear ourselves out on the road. We live here in our house, enjoying everything with which the Lord has blessed us.”
Before I left, I took out a one-pound note to give to the owners of the house as a deposit. He waved his hand and said, “If you like the room, you will come; but if you do not come, where will I find you to return your money?” I rejoiced that God had brought me to pleasant lodgings and an honest landlord, and I thanked my companion for having brought me here.
In short, I liked the room and the landlord and the location, and the rent was no higher than I was paying the father of the child. I rejoiced over the repose that awaited me in that house and over the sweet sleep in store for me there. Someone who has known neither sleep by night nor repose by day can imagine my joy over that room.
6
It is easier for a man to grow wings and fly from one lodging to another than to tell his landlord, “I am leaving your lodgings.” For there is some embarrassment involved, as though it were repugnant for you to live with him — in addition to whatever you make him lose in rent.
Since I was thinking about leaving my lodgings, I paid no attention to the roar of the buses and the tumult of the street. And since I stopped thinking about them, sometimes I even slept. And since I slept, my heart slumbered, free of troubles. I thought to myself: There are people, like those living in cellars, who would be happy in a room like mine, and I didn’t need to look for other lodgings. But since I had rented another room I had to move there. But, since I had not yet left my lodgings, perhaps there was no need to leave.
While I was debating whether or not to leave, my eyes began bothering me. I went to a doctor, and he wrote me a prescription for eyedrops and warned me against touching my eyes with my fingers lest they become worse.
When I am alone I can be careful. But whenever that child sees me he hangs on to me and pokes his fingers into my eyes. And it is not bad enough that his fingers are dirty; his own eyes are diseased. What good is it for a doctor to warn those who take heed if he doesn’t warn those who don’t?
But Heaven helped me. It so happened that I had to take a trip. Because of this, there was no fear of embarrassing the landlord, since he realized that I was going out of town. I took leave of him and his wife in friendship, and because of their friendship they even let me hold the child in my arms. As I left, they said, “If you should return to Tel Aviv, our house is open to you.” I nodded to them, reciting silently, “Praised be He who has rid me of you.” From this day on you will not have the privilege of seeing me under your roof.
For eight days I was on the road. I had much trouble and much trouble was caused to me. But since I knew that soon I would move into comfortable lodgings, I accepted all troubles gladly, looking forward to the day of my return to Tel Aviv.
I had much trouble and much trouble was caused to me. But I also took joy in much happiness. I passed through the land and I saw that we had several more villages. Places that had produced only thistles and thorns had become like a garden of God. And like the land, so too the people were happy in their labors and rejoicing in building their land, their sons and daughters healthy and wholesome. Their hands were not soiled, and their eyes were not diseased. It is a pleasure to take a child in your arms. He does not stick his fingers into your eyes, and when he touches you it is as though a pure breeze has blown across your face.
At one kibbutz I met the daughter of my new landlord. Had most of my years not been behind me, and had I not rented lodgings from the parents of this young woman, I might have remained in that kibbutz. I left her as one leaves a friend, happy that he will see him again.
7
I was very happy to return to Tel Aviv, happier than I had been for many years. I could already picture myself living in a pleasant room, in a pleasant climate, with pleasant furniture and pleasant people, and I would come and go with no child to stick his fingers into my eyes. But most important of all would be the sleep, uninterrupted by buses and vendors and crying and groaning. Between you and me, for many years now I have considered man’s purpose to be sleep, and whoever has mastered sleep, and knows how to sleep, is as important in my eyes as if he knew why man was created and why man lives. Because of this, it is easy to understand my great joy at coming to occupy lodgings where sleep awaited me.
I do not know if that house is still standing, and, if it is, whether they have not made offices and stores and soda stands out of it, as they have done with most of the houses in Tel Aviv. In those days, it was unique among houses, the pleasantest of houses.
8
When the train arrived in Tel Aviv, my heart began to dance. At last I was entering the city and my room, to sprawl out on the bed for a good sleep. Praised be He who has preserved such satisfaction in His world for His creatures.
I called a porter and he took my baggage. Feeling very expansive, I asked him out of friendliness where he lodged and if he had pleasant lodgings, after the manner of a man whose mind is clear and open enough to ask after the welfare of his neighbor. And I told him all about my new lodgings. Moving from one subject to another, we spoke about the beginning of Tel Aviv, which had been a pleasant place to live. The porter sighed. “We will never be granted peace like the peace we had here at first, until the Messiah comes.”
As we spoke we came to the new house. The green hill rose among its stately trees, and lovely flowers put forth their fragrance from every side. The porter stopped and looked around. It was obvious that never in his life had he seen such a pleasant place.
Silently we walked up the grassy steps. A breeze blew in from the garden, and with it every good smell. Small birds were flying swiftly through the air, and fish were swimming below them in the pool, chasing the birds’ shadows.
The landlord came out, gave me a warm welcome, and said to the porter, “Bring up the baggage.”